Tuesday, October 18, 2011

Jets/Dolphins Recap: O Creatures Foolish, How Great Is That Ignorance?

"Sullen were we in the sweet air the sun made glad, bearing within us a sluggish smoke." Those souls trapped in Dante's fourth circle are fixed in the slime, choking on this hymn, learning a hard lesson about the sin of despair. I learned it from a more comfortable position, watching the Jets stomp the Miami Dolphins on a warm Monday night. To despair is to imply that the world the Lord has made is not good, and that is no small charge. I can only admit my error and beg forgiveness.

I wasn't sure I would be able to return to my hastily assembled theology. Had the Jets lost to the Dolphins I'm reasonably certain I would have accepted there was no god, driven myself to New Jersey and tried to drown myself in the swamps of the Meadowlands. Most of the first half was a goddamned travesty, as one three-and-out after another piled up and I began to wonder what went beyond embarrassing. What's past humiliating? There's probably precedent for relieving an offensive coordinator mid-game, but what's the word on murdering one? The only bright spot was the Perseverance of the Saints, with Revis getting an 100 yard pick six on a play that by all rights should have been a penalty. That's what I was driving at last week: Should the good lord call your number, you will find your way to the stage. You will catch your breaks; to believe otherwise is to be sullen in the sweet air. And in that vein, a quarterback who opened 1 for 4 took an offense that managed less than a dozen yards in the first quarter and finished the night 14 for 25 with just under 300 total yards. Jeremy Kerley proved a capable replacement for Derrick Mason, Shonn Greene spent the second half looking like the bruiser he's supposed to be, and David Harris blasted Matt Moore in the teeth with an oil tanker.

A lot went wrong, of course, and though I mean no offense to my co-blogger here at ACLB, a lot of it was that they were playing the hapless Dolphins. But fuck all that, when you were where the Jets were you need a win, and if that means driving down to the schoolyard to pick on somebody much smaller then you, well, that's what it takes. Victories are victories, and if I can wipe the sluggish smoke from my heart I can look forward to next week.

ARMCHAIR LINEBACKER!

Football. No matter what anyone says, this is the true national pastime, and because of that far too many of us have been swallowed up by the monster storm called fandom, spiraling further and further into the abyss until finally, all we can do is holler back, screaming into the void hoping that someone, somewhere might hear our fool words.That is what this blog is all about, giving a voice to those who need to just get it all out because their own team has clubbed them over the head one too many times. We are all idiots, utterly without dignity or decency, but we are fans and we believe despite ourselves that somehow this football thing will someday be worth all that idiocy and pain.If you think you have something to say about your team, or if you just want to say hello or hell, even if you just want to yell at us, hit Raven Mack up at ravenmack at gmail.com or Neil up at neilabfree at gmail.com and before you know it, you too may be gibbering like a lunatic for the world to see. Come, join us, and we will gnaw on the bones of the wicked and the foolish together. Football. What can we say? We love it.

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REGGIE ROBY!

Reggie Roby is the human mascot for this blog because while everyone was all up-in-arms about black quarterbacks, he was silently The Black Punter. Not only that though, because he was the best and wore a wristwatch on his arm to create the factoid of hangtime, because he knew his shit, even though it looked like he didn't. Reggie Roby personifies the open-minded know-it-allness punter mentality of The Armchair Linebacker. That's our man.